Stress Management
by The Supreme Goose Overlord
Summary: It's hard, piloting a giant laser-shooting robot cat through the cosmos in an attempt to save the universe from intergalactic alien conquest. It's hard and nobody understands. Or: Keith is stressed out, Lance and Shiro fret, Hunk is basically Pidge's mom, and Allura wiggles her eyebrows suggestively in the background.


Lance was a morning person.

While the rest of Giant Robot Space Lion Squad™ shuffled sleepily into the dining hall, hair mussed and eyes blinking groggily at the bright lights, Lance was already plunked down in his usual seat and digging in to a hearty bowl of space goo. The only other people with comparable amounts of energy were Allura and Coran – which was largely in part, Lance suspected, due to the _slight_ military leaning of Altean culture.

"Anyone seen Keith?" Pidge mumbled, slumping against Hunk as she waited for him to finish spooning out two bowls of goo.

Shiro did a phenomenal job at not suppressing his yawn. "He's usually the last one up, just give him a little more time."

Even Shiro, Lance noted, was more subdued in the early morning. Pidge had already begun to snore softly as she leaned on Hunk's shoulder, food untouched, while Hunk stared blankly ahead, eating in slow and mechanical movements.

Allura frowned at the doorway from her spot at the head of the table. "He normally doesn't take this long, though, does he? Perhaps somebody should go and check up on him."

Shrugging, Lance reached across Shiro to grab the serving bowl and help himself to seconds. "I'm sure he's fine," he said distractedly, watching the goo slowly plop off of the serving spoon and onto his plate. "He probably just slept in, not a big deal."

"What's not a big deal?"

Five pairs of eyes at varying degrees of alertness glanced up at where Keith had just appeared in the doorway to the dining hall. Unlike the others, who typically managed to stumble to the table in their usual, albeit somewhat disheveled everyday clothing, Keith tended to emerge in more casualwear and then transition into his preferred outfit after his post-workout shower. The only recognizable element at breakfast time was always the form-fitting (goddamn) black T-shirt he typically wore under his cropped red jacket.

Realizing that nobody else was going to answer, Coran leaned forward slightly in his seat, lacing his gloved fingers under his chin. "We were worried about you!" he called across the room. His voice echoed through the vaulted ceiling, startling Pidge into consciousness once again. "You were running a bit later than usual, so the Princess was just saying that maybe we should send someone to make sure you were alright."

"But Lance decided that it wasn't any cause for alarm?" Keith finished, raising an eyebrow at him. Lance narrowed his eyes but said nothing (mostly because Shiro would give a Dadly Sigh of Disappointment if he talked with his mouth full). Apparently unconcerned with the lack of response, Keith made his way over to his seat next to Pidge and sat down slowly and with obvious care.

Lance lowered his spoon and leaned forward to look at him more closely. "You get hurt or something?"

Keith momentarily averted his eyes from the strenuous task of serving himself breakfast. "What?"

"Did you hurt yourself?" Lance repeated. "You're moving weird. Like, I know you've gotta keep your back straight because of that stick up your ass, but still."

Keith bristled, shoulders rising in the way they usually did when he was on the defense. This time, however, he visibly froze for a moment before very slowly lowering his shoulders again. "I'm fine."

By this point, Shiro was fully awake and fully concerned. "Did you get injured during training?" he asked, voice laced with worry. "Do you need treatment, or a healing pod?"

Glancing up at the ceiling in dismay, Keith groaned. "I'm _fine_ ," he insisted again. "I'm probably just a bit stiff from sleep, it'll go away in an hour or two." He stabbed his spoon into his goo aggressively.

"Maybe you're stressed," Hunk mused, peering at him thoughtfully over Pidge's bedhead. "I always get awful headaches when I'm worried about something, which is always, and Pidge– "

He was interrupted by a small hand lazily patting at his face. "Shut your fuck," Pidge managed around her spoonful of ooze ("Language, Pidge!"). Hunk took her hand and gently set it back down on the table.

"Like I was saying," he continued, "maybe you're just too hyped up over. I dunno. Stuff."

Keith made a sound that reminded Lance of his older sister's cat in labor. "I'm not _stressed_ , there's nothing wrong with me! There's not even anything to stress about, I'm fi – Lance. What are you doing. Lance sit _down_ don't you dare come over here."

Predictably, Lance ignored all of his teammate's protests and walked around the table to stand behind Keith's chair while the others looked on in interest and amusement. "The best way to find out," he declared, cracking his knuckles and taking delight in the way every hair on the back of Keith's neck stood on end, "is to check the problem itself."

Choking, Keith whirled around as best he could in his seat, despite the obvious discomfort it caused him. "You – _what?_ No, absolutely not, don't – _stop that_."

Lance raised both hands in mock surrender. "Hey man, I won't touch you if you don't want, but if you're stressed out and stopping it up with that stick up your ass I mentioned earlier, it might hinder your performance. Your performance, Keith."

Keith glared suspiciously for a moment before his mouth closed in a grim line of determination and he turned to face forward in his seat. "Go ahead," he said stiffly, staring straight ahead. Shiro scooted his chair to the side to get out of the line of sight. "Caress my shoulders, or whatever. But I'll prove to you that I'm totally fine."

Humming in acknowledgement rather than agreement, Lance inched closer. Pidge had somehow managed to pass out face-first into her goo, but everyone else was paying close attention, even if some (Keith, mostly) were pretending not to. This was it; the moment of truth. Was Keith ticklish? Lance hoped he was ticklish. Maybe he had a laugh like a donkey.

As it turned out, Keith was not ticklish; at least, his shoulders weren't. Lance would, unfortunately, have to find out about any and all donkey laughs another day. What he did find was somewhat more… pressing.

"Holy crap!" Lance marveled in morbid fascination. "You've got a knot in your back the size of – "

" _Lance."_

" – the size of something very large!"

Hunk let out a low whistle. "That's rough, buddy. I hear yoga helps loosen the muscles, maybe you could try that?"

Keith scowled. "I don't have time to do yoga every day, that'd use up hours of training time!"

Shiro stroked his chin thoughtfully with his human hand. "Massage therapy was relatively popular when I was still training to be a pilot. They would have a few professionals come in right before final exams, to help trainees relax."

"Who here can do massage therapy, though?" Hunk wondered as he set Pidge's plate aside and began wiping off her face with her napkin. She pawed at his arm but didn't wake.

"I could do it," Lance raised one hand halfway while the other continued to prod at Keith's back. "I worked part-time as a lifeguard at the beach for a few years, so I took a lot of health and first-aid classes. I don't remember very well, but I'm pretty sure there was a unit on persuading muscles to relax or something."

Allura raised an eyebrow, speaking for the first time in several minutes. "So you'll be able to… persuade Keith's muscles to relax, will you?" she grinned at him mischievously.

"What? Oh, you know that's not what I me – "

"Excellent!" Coran crowed in delight. "That settles that!"

"No, I – "

"I trust that you two will be able to work out when it's necessary, and follow through accordingly?" Shiro asked, giving them an innocent smile.

" _Shiro – "_

Keith grabbed his lingering hand in a vicelike grip. "My performance, Lance," he deadpanned, tugging Lance down to stare him straight in the eye. "My performance."

Well then. It looked like he'd get to find out about that donkey laugh sooner than he expected.

* * *

 **whoa hey it certainly has been four years hasn't it. whoops lmao. ffn dot net: how is it that the only thing u have improved since 2012 is the character limit for summaries like? why are you like this**

 **also this was originally posted on ao3 jsyk. l8er kids**


End file.
